


Uninvited Guests Can Be Fun

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Graphic Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-23
Updated: 2009-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>On Colonial One she would have to be more careful, but here, alone in Bill's quarters she doesn't have to hold back the cry...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninvited Guests Can Be Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [loveintheloo](http://community.livejournal.com/loveintheloo) challenge because seariderfalcon challenged me with a _"shampoo"_ prompt.

The first time it happened it really was an emergency and she could explain it away quite easily if the Quorum or press ask her. She had been on the Galactica for a meeting, one with the XO to do with rations or water or something that was probably equally important but not interesting enough to remember now. On the way to her raptor back to Colonial One she had been asked to bless one of the new babies born since the exodus from New Caprica. The child had thrown up over her jacket and she had needed to wash it off of her neck to alleviate some of the embarrassment the parents felt. The Admiral's quarters being both closer and more secure than the officers showers she had used the water there. Which is all she would tell them.

She would not mention that the small child had managed to throw up more than its body size all across her hair, neck and jacket. Nor that she had thrust the child back to its parents and rushed to Bill's quarters just because she had wanted the smell off of her as fast as possible.

But whatever the variation, the reality remains the same, she could rationally and logically explain the first time she had used his shower in the middle of the day without his knowledge. The occasions that followed, however, she could not.

The second time she had been tired and between meetings and the allure of the water that she was certain sprayed much warmer and more powerfully in Bill's shower than any other she had been in since the attacks, had been too much to resist. She hadn't told him then either.

The third time they had fought over their particular definitions of civilian and military matters. Sneaking into his quarters and using his shower and shampoo had been just the right kind of illicit payback for him being right and looking so damned smug about it. She hadn't realised how the argument had truly affected her until she stood under the hot stream and came with barely more than a few flicks of her fingers against her clit.

The fourth time. The fourth time she stands under the water knowing that Bill is still in the CIC because she had Tory call to check before her fictional meeting with Captain Apollo. And if using his shower in secret had filled her with a mixture of excitement and arousal before, then escaping her Aide, tricking several keen military minds that she has business on the battleship and using said shower knowing that she won't only be washing her hair has had her thrumming all day.

She leans one hand against the grey wall, fingers wide for balance, while the other runs down her body, fingers rubbing water into her skin, stopping at one breast and then the other to feel the hard peaks against her fingertips. She imagines her hands larger, skin rough from true command and not paperwork. A gold band that catches suddenly as her hand, no _his hand_ slides across her, covering one breast completely, her nipple pressing against his palm as he kneads, just the right side of too hard. She leans heavily on her outstretched arm, head tipping back as she continues to imagine his hand in place of her own. A groan escapes as she brings her fingertips back to the nipple and squeezes it sharply.

And if it really were Bill's hand he would do the same to the other breast, stopping only to put his mouth where his fingers were and it would be his teeth and his lips nibbling red marks and not her fingernails digging lines. Leaning forward she drops her head down, eyes closing and biting her lip as she lowers her hand between her slightly spread legs. The first touch of a finger against her folds sends a low moan through her body and out of her mouth. On Colonial One she would have to be more careful, but here, alone in Bill's quarters she doesn't have to hold back the cry that escapes when she pushes a finger inside and knows she's wetter and hotter than the water spraying down on her. And she thinks of Bill as she adds another finger and another, the water almost cold against her skin as she presses deeper and spreads herself wider, fills herself as much as she can, fingers sliding deep inside her but not deep enough, not wide enough. _Bill would be bigger._

She presses her palm against her clit and imagines her movements are his, that he's inside her and hitting that spot that she can't quite reach alone, sending her heart pounding and reducing her breathing to short sharp pants that are loud enough to be heard. And it's his voice next to her ear that whispers her name over and over, and his hand around her waist holding her up when her arm trembles with the rest of her. It's his movements speeding up as she hits the edge and tumbles over and shouts out his name to the bathroom floor, her muscles contracting around her fingers, blood pumping loudly in her head. "Bill. Bill. Bill."

"Laura." Fingers still inside her, pleasure still sending tiny aftershocks she freezes, even as the gravel of his voice threatens to pull her over again.

~~~

The first time, he thought it was all in his head. He'd had a long day that promised to be a longer night and while seeing Laura for an hour might have been just what he needed, a meeting with the President to discuss _something_ hadn't been. But he's a trained soldier, and a patriot and no matter how bad the day he hasn't refused a chance to catch a glimpse of Laura since Kobol. So he had gone and sat in the ward room and watched with half his attention as she controlled the invited members of his crew with ease. Even Saul. And then Tory had opened and closed the hatch as she entered, and even though it couldn't have been anything more than the change in pressure as new air entered with her, something blew through the air and he'd smelt it. His shampoo, coming from someone who was definitely not him. Another time and it wouldn't have caught his notice, but he hadn't smelt it on anyone else before, and he knew every one of the people that had been in that meeting, and new shampoo didn't just turn up suddenly without a lot of fuss.

It hadn't been until the second time that he realised just who the scent was coming from. It had been faded, the second day after washing, but it was his scent and it had been on Laura when she brushed against him as they walked towards CIC. He hadn't mentioned it, but it made him wonder.

The third time it was the hatch to the head that was just a little more open than he had left it and the red hairs caught in the plughole that definitely hadn't been his, that told him everything he needed to know. The wet towel on the floor that had smelt a little of them both. The image behind his eyes had been almost too much and on his rack he stroked himself with the towel pressed to his nose.

The fourth time he decides that he is going to come inside her and she is going to scream his name knowing he's there.

And if he wasn't so turned on he would probably have to laugh at the sight before him because even naked, red from more than embarrassment and her hand still between her legs, he can still see Laura trying to pull on the presidential mask. He wonders if she knows that will only make things worse. He's wondered for a long time what that would look like without the suits.

"Bill, I- uh. Admiral, I can-" Her hand still hasn't moved and the water still beats down on her and he's certain she wishes that military showers had curtains.

"-explain?" His voice is rougher than usual and he watches the shudder that passes through her, an answering one traveling through his own body when he sees her fingers disappear a little more. One hand on the hatch, he swings it shut while the other reaches for the buttons on his jacket and flicks them open one by one. His pulse quickens as her eyes follow his movements, tongue slipping out to lick her wet lips when he's finished and the blue fabric drops to the floor beside her skirt. He takes a few steps forward, kicking off his shoes as he goes, until he's as close as he can get without stepping beneath the spray still half dressed.

"Someone has been using my shampoo, Madame President." And he knows by the quirk of her lips, the catch of her breath, that she hears the humour and arousal that he won't bother to hide from her again. Not after this.

Her "Admiral?" is a little breathless and maybe more a moan than a question as he tugs at the belt at his waist and more fabric hits the deck seconds later. He isn't usually so shameless, but he doesn't care that he's standing with in just his tanks and boxes more than a little tented, because Laura's still naked and flushed and her hand starts moving again when he begins to lose the last of his clothes.

And then he steps in behind her and wraps one hand around her waist to pull her back against his chest, and there's another hitch in her breath that he barely notices because he's fantasied about this and it's better than he ever imagined. She still has one hand between her legs and one thrown out against the wall, but most of her weight is against him now, and when one of his hands reaches around her to knead at her breast, he takes all of her weight as her hand wraps around his neck and she pulls his head down to her own.

They've done first kisses, and seconds when she came to him after New Caprica and she wasn't dead and he had come back for her. But this is different and they both know it. She opens her lips to his questing tongue and with a groan that rumbles down his chest and through her back he takes her mouth like he'll take her body after. Her fingers pull at the hairs on the back of his neck, the water pounds against the top of his head and the angle is nothing short of painful but he doesn't care because her other hand is still moving between her thighs and when he stops for breath, he'll put his own there.

He does, gasping into her hair that doesn't smell like him, not yet and sliding his hand down her arm until he reaches her wrist. He tugs it until her fingers come away, glistening and it's too much like a waste to let the water wash them clean, so he draws them into his mouth and puts his own where they were to stop her whimper before it's fully formed. She so wet and hot and she clamps down around his fingers to tell him she's ready. He'd like to take more time to touch her. To learn her inside and out; one hand still firmly on her breast, curled around her to keep the balance, thumb flicking over the hard peak. But she's ready and he won't be able to take much more of her body rubbing against his own, his erection sliding across the back of her thigh.

"Bill. Now." Her voice is a growl and he must not react in time, because she pushes back against him and makes it an order from his President. "Admiral. Frak me. Now."

And because he's a soldier and a patriot and because she's wet and squirming in his arms he bends her over slightly and waits until he hands are flat against the wall before pushing inside her with one thrust and a "Yes ma'am" that's definitely a hiss. She's tight enough to make the words draw out longer than they should and he gives her time to get used to him but she twists her hips and curls her back and takes him in deeper than he thought he could go like this.

All thoughts of slow and careful and first times that are candlelight and not-silk sheets leave his head when she pulls forward and pushes back and tells him without words that this is going to be quick and passionate and screaming themselves hoarse before morning and he better catch up or she'll leave him behind. So he does, hands dropping to her hips, and he pulls out slowly until he's only just there inside, and thrusts back hard and sharp and matches her gasp with one of his own. She doesn't move her hands from above her dropped head, and he can tell by the quivering of her walls around him that she doesn't need anything more this time than him inside her. He speeds up his thrusts and feels the change in them both as she starts to contract for the second time and he gets closer to the edge. Tipping his head forward, he presses a kiss to her neck through the wet strands of hair and whispers her name against her skin and she comes with a scream that could be his name but is loud enough that he doesn't care if it's a deity instead. And the shudders that pass through her from the inside out take away the last of his control and as she rides out her orgasm he thrusts in harder and faster and grinds out her name as he comes harder still.

The water must have grown cold long before he notices but Laura isn't shivering, even as her muscles still quake, and his skin cries out for anything to cool it down. Rubbing a hand up and down her arm, he steps back and slides out of her, smiling at the groan of protest the action receives. Bending slightly, he nuzzles into the hollow between neck and shoulder drawing out a hum that has more effect on him than it should at his age.

They need to talk, and it will be two parts awkward and one part formal and somewhere in there he'll tell her that he loves her so what does it matter if this might all constitute 'too close'? But not now. Now, he spots the shampoo bottle on the side and turns his lip to her ear. "Can I wash you hair, Madame President?" And she turns so fast that he has to catch his balance against the wall. Her eyes tell him that if they were younger she would be dragging them into round two, but instead he reads the promise there and thinks the talking might go better than he expected.

"If you don't, Admiral, I'm afraid I'll just have to use someone else's shower who will." He growls even though he's pretty certain by now that she won't be showering with anyone else ever again. Pushing her back against the wall as he swallows her little bubble of laughter he decides that his fingers weren't given much time to play before.

It isn't long before her laughter turns back into moans and throaty gasps and the next time they think of the shampoo bottle Laura kicks it off the shelf to make room for her foot.

 

**End.**


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